The Fringe is a chaotic and frenetic beast. I’ve worked every day since the 25th of July – some days less than others, but always a shift here, a few hours there.
Not today though.
Today, the 15th, has for a long time been the ‘Rest Day’ for the Fringe. A day when the performers sit down and catch their breath. A slight pause in the anarchy of flyering and advertising, a time for actors and poets and comedians and the rest. The metaphorical eye of the storm, and I’m sitting in the calm enjoying a day to myself.
I’m currently sitting outside a Grassmarket pub in the blazing heat, sipping a cider and reading my book. Around me, others are engaged in similar pastimes, to the background music of a guitar-toting busker. Soon I’ll meet a friend who is similarly taking advantage of the good weather and day off work, and we’ll gossip and generally take our ease. I have plans to visit a juggling shop later on and get some new juggling balls.
Some don’t avail themselves of the opportunity of a rest day, of course. Whether out of a passion to see their performances prosper, or a canny acumen driving them to wring another show out of their punters, there is still much to see and do on this traditional halfway point.
This morning I handed out flyers for a children’s magic show, and believe me the Royal Mile is still packed full of people looking for and dispensing advertisments.
But for those who do take advantage of this mid-way point, it’s time to kick back and grab a drink.
Tomorrow it all starts again.